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Troll Collection


When you cross a bridge, you’ve got to pay the troll… Tessa’s boss asked her for a favor, but she wasn’t expecting a trip to a mountain cabin and a monster out of her nightmares…or wildest fantasies. The old bridge she crosses has a caretaker, and a troll bridge always demands a toll, one Tessa – and the women who come after her – will be all too happy to pay.

Enjoy four tales of monstrous fun as Tessa, Ginny, Amy and Megan all discover that fairy tale monsters are real… and a troll with a toll to collect may be the answer to a girl’s wildest desire.

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The grip on her shifted, and her attacker lifted her effortlessly and spun her around, to face something out of a nightmare. What she had taken for a blue shirt was blue skin, lightly mottled and freckled, stretched across a broad expanse of heavily muscled chest. Above, short tusks framed a sharp toothed grin, and red eyes glowed beneath a tangled mass of red hair. Tessa’s breath caught in her throat, her heart racing, her mind frozen with the sheer impossibility of what was in front of her. It had to be a mask, but it wasn’t; she could see the faint gleam of sweat on his skin, the faint wrinkles around those inhuman red eyes.

She found breath to scream as that leering face moved toward her, struggling to pull away. The expected pain of those teeth sinking into her never arrived, though; instead, he buried his face against the side of her neck and inhaled deeply, his tongue tracing a hot, wet line along her throat. Tessa whimpered as his mouth worked along her skin, surprisingly gentle in spite of the faint scrape of his tusks against her.

“Don’t hurt…” The words broke off in another scream as she was effortlessly swept up and thrown over a muscular shoulder; the arm wrapped around her was unyielding as stone, and something sharp – claws, like the teeth weren’t bad enough it had claws – pressed into her back through the flimsy fabric of her top. Through tear-blurred eyes she could see a broad back and the muscular curve of his ass, barely covered by a scrap of leather. He didn’t seem to notice Tessa’s screams, or the fists pounding against his back, or even that he was carrying her; he leaped effortlessly over the railing of the bridge and into the creek, splashing water high enough to leave Tessa gasping.

She sobbed, unable to stop herself, as he carried her under the bridge – into his den – and set her down. The action almost didn’t register at first, that she had been set on her feet instead of dropped, that she was being held firmly in place by claws that scraped through her thin top, but she had not yet been torn open by those claws. She looked up, hesitantly, into the beast’s glaring red eyes and fanged face. It was watching her, just watching and grinning, intelligence behind those hideous features.

“Please.” Her voice came out a whimper, and she swallowed hard, tears still streaming down her cheeks. “Please, let me go.”

A low, gravelly chuckle greeted her words. “You cross my bridge,” the beast growled. “You pay the troll now.”

“Is that what you want? I have money, I can get more…”

She was cut off by the sound of her top tearing away, the troll’s claws cutting through the fabric like tissue paper. “Money not what I needin’,” the troll growled, tossing the scraps of cloth aside to wash away in the stream. He leaned in, his elongated lower teeth brushing lightly against her skin as he tucked his face back against her neck and breathed deep. “You got other ways to pay.”

He had left her in nothing but a lacy bra above her jeans. Tessa tried to pull away, but his big hands with their long, clawed fingers were wrapped firmly around her arms again, holding her in place while he sniffed at her: her throat, the cleft of her cleavage, her flat stomach. His arms were too long for the rest of him, and he kept holding her easily as he knelt, sniffing deeply at her crotch. It was all strange, impossibly strange, terrifying and yet primitively appealing. Tessa’s heart raced as she fought his grip, but the real reason she was trying so desperately to pull her hips away from him was that she was afraid he’d scent the arousal dampening her jeans.